That’s what I wanted to yell to farm intern, Liz Green, today when I saw the woodchuck at the far end of the field feasting on newly planted lettuce. We don’t have a gun, and it’d probably be illegal to fire one in Belmont. Instead, I asked her to grab the “woodchuck supplies”. Shovel and bombs in hand, we slowly approached the demon, er, woodchuck. A hungry male adolescent ‘chuck with an attitude like he owned the place. He spotted us, so we started running toward him. Not because we thought we could catch him. Goodness, no. Not after a day spent doing hard farm labor! We wanted to see where he was headed. For the past week, his home has been impossible to find. We walk the perimeter of the farm several times a day searching for his lair to no avail.

Well, today we found FIVE open, active holes. FIVE. There were none this morning when we looked. Liz and I wondered if someone’s been trapping woodchucks and bringing them to the farm. Probably not, since this would be illegal, as well as just plain mean (mean to me, my customers AND the woodchuck). Or maybe May 9 is Woodchuck Pilgrimage Day — they all come the farm to have a big party.

Anyway, when I left at 6:30 this evening there were no active woodchuck holes. To date, around $1,200 in lettuce and peas has been lost to woodchucks. Not a catastrophe, since I always plant more than is needed, but very annoying. I’ll keep you posted.